clear mornings
by Miko-chan
Summary: His dreams were realized, but it felt like regret. [NaruHina]


**clear mornings **

_**--**the sun, even if it reigns above the sky, it always hides under the earth every twilight--_

The porcelain chimed strange melodies.

It was a promising day for outdoors, as one can feel the particularly mild breeze appropriate for today's activities. Etched upon the lazy blue horizon were those clouds that everyone likes to watch in the busy yet peaceful town of Konoha.

But the silence that permeated the air was cold as winter.

"Cup"

A hushed yet hurried whisper, along the sounds of glazed clay.

"Pot."

Nervously, she draws breath from her numbing lips.

"Leaves."

"Let me do it, Hyuuga-hime"

"No. It's alright. Just make the Hokage-sama comfortable."

Being the mistress of the largest estates in Konoha, it might be unusual for someone who was born with a golden spoon on her mouth to be not used being called as someone close to Lady of some majestic kingdom. With the lineage that she came from, it was expected.

But it would not change that she did not enjoy being called as a superior.

Anyway, they are only titles. They do not change names.

With a trembling sigh, she stood in front of the shoji panel. The low murmurings in the other side of the door were low, as if they knew that her presence was just nearby. There was the urge to see what was beyond these hardly translucent panels, but she resisted. No need for it, since she had already a near guess what it was all about. Instead, the young woman straightened the creases of her pristine white kimono, with the sleeves patterned with shadows of plum petals.

Then she gave a slight force on the wooden panel.

Both of the respectable men turned to look at her.

It was eerie, to see both of these men to wear such serious grave faces. Usually, in the not-so distant past, no one would ever see them together in a good five minutes without the soft paper panels end up in pieces with few drops of bloodshed.

But they were talking. Formally. _Carefully_.

Two pairs of transparent orbs clashed at a moment. Then the older one closed his eyes, understanding the silent request and gave an excuse to leave them alone.

"Ah! Did you bring some ramen?" He finally disengaged himself from his cordial voice while talking earlier and adopted his carefree tones that he used whenever he got the chance.

Her guest did not mind if his prestigious hat was missing (which he must wear when one visits a clan house), revealing the golden tresses that curved the sharp edges of his young, whiskered, tanned face.

"I'm afraid there are only some meats." She sat, traditionally setting the food upon the mahogany table.

"Thanks!"

He sat now on the opposite side, with his legs crossed and a quick mumble of prayer.

"I am pretty hungry, ya know?" He continued to speak, picking up the elegantly curved chopsticks. "You take one whole night to finish all that freaking paperwork." Then he reached for a morsel at the edge of the table while she poured some tea on his cup. A contented smirk spread on his face and made another swift grab on the plate that made her neutral mask to quirk slightly.

He was completely an absolute contrast of authority he represents. The powerful _shinobi _does not seem to be the one who is feared in all the five elemental countries and highly esteemed in all states. The lively young man seemed more like bright sunlit horizons and tantalizing hot ramen soup, trusting blue eyes and loud exuberant voice.

Nevertheless, he never fooled her.

Her ever-observing eyes had speculated him since they were little and untrained. This was something that she was thankful for, because it made her see beyond those smiles.

His sturdy mask always wore a smile.

Yet she always knows when he uses the brittle mask.

_(Frightened. Bleeding. Hopeless. But he does not give up. Never.)_

"Hokage-sama?"

_Flinch._

He stopped a merry chatter while chewing a piece of breaded cookie.

"How's your wife doing?"

There was a sudden piercing silence.

The gentle sapphires hardened, with a blaze of a raw ache.

"She's fine."

The heiress did not need to use her bloodline limit to know what had occurred.

"And your son?" Another smile grazed her face, trying to lighten up the sudden gloom she started.

Here, he gave a sharp intake of breath. His calloused fingers curled around the light wood tightly that she thought they were going to break into two. A slow quiver ran in his spine, but all this disappeared when the azure gaze met her translucent ones.

Right now, he sees the _(young, raven-haired, green-glazed irises)_ boy who always sat by the swing.

That same, frustrating, devouring loneliness ate him in his own scarred life.

"He still drives me mad." He finally spoke, munching a piece of meat. "Has an incredible talent to bully and outsmart me." Another vicious bite. "He's a brat."

Then a melancholic smile was on his lips.

"He's an annoying little shrimp, but he's truly..."

_Truly his father's son._

"A genius? Yes, he truly is." The prim lady agreed. "Quite talented."

"How about you? He quickly asked with a grin on his face.

It reminds her that this was something of an unspoken duel between them.

_By the edge of words and the strength of will._

But she will not lose. After all, it is a game she initiated.

"I'm alright, Hokage-sama."

"You're going to be inaugurated as the Clan Head tommorow."

But both of them knew what he meant.

_You are getting married.  
_  
It was now her turn to flinch and look on the ripples of the scalding tea at her hands.

"Is that why you are here, Hokage-sama?"

He gave a nod, before continuing to pick for a meat served. "In the ceremonies, security might lax a bit. I know you can take care of yourselves, but we are never too sure. I was going it through your husband earlier."

Another sharp needle jabbed into her chest.

It has been always like this, a faux competition of who stabs the most with their pretend charades whenever they had the chance to talk. Whenever they part, both will now try to anesthetize the wounds each had received for weeks. Then they would only burst open with vengeance again in mere seconds of these duel of pretenses.

Ever since she had already given up hope...

Ever since she spoke those words, stammering and blushing so _hard_.

Ever since those beautiful cerulean eyes looked _afraid_.

Ever since he was stunned at her confession.

And ever since then, he told her nothing.

He only gazed at those damned wilting blossoms, and told her that _his Sakura-chan_ needed him now more than ever.

Those eyes now always gazed at a different route away from her, if possible.

She could not miss the guilt she sometimes saw in them.

It was not really his doing, she had always silently reasoned to him beneath her vague words. But he knew he was partly at fault for making her like this. He did give a hand for building this impenetrable barrier. He was the season who changed her from being a warm, young sunlight of summer into a cold, freezing breeze in winter.

"Is that so, Hokage-sama?"

"Don't"

_I'm tired of playing games.  
_  
Her head snapped. Long pallid fingers grasped to the chipped cup.

"What is it Hoka-?"

"Don't call me that..."

Those chopsticks were now put aside, with porcelain plate on the black, shining wood.

He was finished eating.

"Hokage-sama?"

"Hinata-chan." He gave an exasperated, tired sigh. With a lazy arm, he scratched the back of his head languidly. The blonde-haired man unknotted the tension that permeated the room with a slight wry smile. "I never commanded anyone to call me 'Hokage-sama' every _single_ time. It's really boring."

"But you deserve respect."

He suddenly gave a quirk of his eyes, expecting her to object.

With a frustrated sigh that can match his, she settled the untouched cup back to its place.

"You are hopeless, Naruto-kun."

That name only reminded her of regrets, her own silent longings. Something she thought that were already forgotten and long buried six feet under her stomach.

But with only the utterance of that endearment, which was never spoken...

_Ever since that day._

"Isn't it much easier to say 'Naruto-kun' than 'Hokage-sama'?" He gave a light hearted chuckle. "It has fewer syllables, anyway."

It might be.

But it was still harder to keep it from hurting her.

"Yes I think so, Naruto-kun." Her well trained hands gathered the finished plates and settled them on the nearby collecting tray to be carried away immediately when she will rise to leave. The soft tendrils of her hair hid those exquisite eyes, glittering in the sunlight so much that there's a tender fear inside of her that he might notice. "But you see, I'm not allowed to say them again if I get married."

Then she stared hard at him, her crude quarts gaze met his smoky cobalt ones.

But he smiled, that melted the rawness of her feelings.

"What does it have to do with us, Hinata-chan?"

And in his mind's eye, he framed the memory of her startled cream-colored eyes. The passing breeze made her stray ebony locks to enclose her sweet, astonished face.

Moments like this, he mused, makes him wonder what could have happened.

_...if only__**, only**__ things were different._

.She looks like the young girl who always made him think now.

"Because calling me Naruto-kun makes you smile again."

Bewildered, a betraying hand touched her lips.

Indeed, there was a slight upturned curve on her face.

_Yet why did she also felt a warm wet trail on her cheeks?_

But she must have just imagined them.

Since she promised she will be strong.

_He taught her that._

_The Rokudaime_ rose from his languid position, and turned rigid in an instant. With an effort, he turned away from her and faced the shoji panels that led to the lawn.

"Report." One rasp, short almost weary masculine intonation came out from him.

"Hokage-sama." came a feminine voice, swift and intimidating. It was somehow muffled, due to the fact that she wore a clay mask of the most elite soldiers of this village. "We spotted a member. He was grievously injured when we tried to subdue him. But we could not do anything since he would not respond to any of us in the interrogation."

"Very well." Then there was the rush of leaves, and the presence of the nin disappeared.

"I'm sorry." He gave an apologetic grin as he turned to her again, his large covering hat placed on his fair-colored locks. "Duty calls."

A hasty shove of the shoji door was opened, where the direction of the reporting kunoichi was.

"Na-naruto-kun?"

He stopped in his tracks.

"All this time, I wanted to ask you."

_Afraid.  
_  
After all the years of building her defenses,

"If everything---"

_Curious.  
_  
After all those times she tried to bury the marginalized _genin_ of the past,

"If all these things never happened, what could you have---"

_Hesitant.  
_  
They all came back, with those eyes quick to laughter and his rejuvenating atmosphere.

The image of spring, filled with brimming determination and her flushed cheeks. The soft musical voice that he saw whenever she was going to prove that she was truly strong.

He admired her for that.

"What could you have told me then?"

He, the man she had always seen five steps behind, was motionless for awhile.

Then he gave a smile.

"I could have treated you to ramen."

But the lightweight paper-panels were closed shut, leaving her alone.

With her shattered masks, she gave a shuddering sob.

there was sun. and him and her standing over a swing. a dream of what could have beens.

**First Written:** 2005

**Revised:** October 2007


End file.
